New Title 1 (3 page)

This is just getting ridiculous,
she thought as she sculled down the water, leaning back against the counter.
Surely it can’t take two weeks to change a fucking radiator.

Fucking rip-off merchants.

The walk from the tram stop was killing her. Although it was only fifteen minutes, after spending the whole day on her feet, bustling between tables, it was the last thing she fucking needed.
And then there were the tram trips with the fucking inconsiderate fucks who just made you want to brain them for their fucking stupidity: blocking doors so you had to squeeze past them, not even caring if you were struggling with a full load of groceries. Sitting there playing their fucking ring tones to each other, the constant little bleats and bleeps, not even caring that they were slowly driving the other passengers insane…

…Okay time to calm down,
Rachel thought as she sculled another glass of water and made her way over to the couch to rest her aching feet. As she threw herself down, narrowly missing squashing the bag of oranges, she deliberately forced her mind away from the indignities of the tram trip and onto the man she’d seen next door.

New neighbour…
She thought as she pondered the odd look he’d been giving her.
Hopefully he’ll be a little better than the last one… not that he could really be much worse.
At least this one looked relatively normal. A bit dishevelled and could certainly do with a shave and a haircut but he was sort of cute, she supposed.
If you were into the scruffy type.
There had been holes in the knees of his pants and the jacket he’d worn could only be described as threadbare but at least it was better than the freakish get-up the last guy got around in: the leather pants and mesh shirts, showing off the ridiculous tattoos he had. The make-up he’d worn. The patently absurd eyeliner and his, clearly dyed, black hair.
And then the piercings…

But his appearance hadn’t been the worst bit; Rachel liked to think she wasn’t that shallow. It was the way he glowered at you, trying to make out like he was some sort of tough guy; edgy and all that, but really just coming across as a complete and utter tosspot…

And then there was the fucking music: blaring out of the speakers at all hours, the fucking parties that went on to the early hours of the morning.
As far as she’d been able to tell, he’d had no job and when she thought of the hours of sleep he’d cost her; the zombie-like days she’d spent at work; it made her blood fucking boil…

But you don’t have to worry about that now. He’s gone so there’s no point letting it get to you…

It was difficult though. It was beyond her comprehension that people living in such close proximity could be so inconsiderate of their neighbours. At least the new guy looked semi-normal, although the way he’d stared at her had been mildly disconcerting. It would be just her luck that after two months of blissful peace from next door she’d get another freak moving in.

Come on, be charitable,
the voice chirped up and Rachel acquiesced. She pushed off the couch, snagged the bags of shopping and hefted them to the kitchen to put away.
You
only saw him for a second. Who knows, maybe he’s just shy or something?

That’s true,
she admitted. At least he smiled back at her. It was better than the leering glare and cat-call she got from the last prick.

Rachel winced as she saw the mouldy remnants of last week’s vegetables in the bottom of the crisper. She knew she should really get around to cleaning it but at the moment she just couldn’t be bothered. She still had to wash her uniform, ready for tomorrow, after that fucker at table twelve had spilt soup all over her; no doubt, Maree, her bitch of a supervisor, would give her hell if there was even a hint of a stain.

Better do it now,
she thought as she lobbed the fruit onto the bottom shelf instead and stacked the remaining groceries away neatly in the cupboard. Even with the thought fresh in her mind, she paused briefly to open the bottle of white wine and take a quick swig.
For fortitude,
she grinned even though she had been trying to cut back. She just hadn’t been able to resist the lure of all those shiny bottles when she’d stepped out of the supermarket and passed the liquor store. It didn’t really matter if she got a little tipsy anyway - it wasn’t like there would be anyone to judge her. Besides it was, and had been for a while now, her deep-seated belief that alcohol was the only thing that allowed human beings to tolerate each other in close proximity. The only thing that allowed them to overcome all the petty annoyances. It had certainly saved that bitch Maree from a slap or two. Somehow, after a nice bottle, throttling the whining tart just didn’t seem worth it.

Rachel could already feel the calming effect of the alcohol and as she headed for the washing machine - despite her recent resolution to drink less - she made a conscious decision to polish off the bottle that evening.
It’s just what I need,
she thought as she stripped off her skirt and lifted the stained shirt over her head,
a nice night on the couch, a couple of DVD’s and a bottle of wine. Should tide me over nicely until the weekend.

As she stood in her underwear, pouring detergent into the machine, her mind drifted back to her new neighbour.
He really wasn’t half-bad looking.
She recalled his muscular frame and his intense blue eyes.
Maybe a session with Walter would be in order as well tonight,
she thought as she realised she was dwelling a little excessively on the man.
Must be getting a little antsy… Well it has been three months.

DVD first though,
she thought,
that’ll put me in the mood.

She left the washing machine to its chugging and headed back to the kitchen for a wine glass.

The light was flashing on the answering machine as she passed on the way back to the couch and even though she doubted it would be good news, she pressed the button. When the thickly-accented, over-loud voice of the mechanic boomed out of the speaker, Rachel had to resist the urge to hurl the glass into the wall. Instead she forced herself to sip slowly at the wine as she listened to him rabbit on about how there had been yet another delay with the parts and hopefully they’d arrive tomorrow.

Great, another day of tramming it,
she thought, biting back her irritation.
Come on now, none of that, don’t let it ruin your evening,
the voice gave its usual pep talk and Rachel determinedly picked up the DVD case and read the back.
Slaughter Orgy
, it proclaimed in lurid green font. It was a film she’d been wanting to see for a while and as she read the back, she had a fair idea who she’d like to see participating in the film’s antics.

Fucking mechanics,
she thought as she made her way to the DVD player.

* * * * *

Ben sat on his inflated lilo, his back pressed to the wall, studying the bottle of pills as he slowly rolled it back and forth between his fingers. He knew he should take more soon but instead took another swig of his bourbon. The images were gaining clarity in his mind and he was intrigued by their slowly sharpening focus. There was a growing feeling of giddiness in his stomach; a gnawing excitement that was thickening his penis and leaving his mouth dry. The red was bleeding through the blurred edges; exhilarating as it suffused into the fog and even though he knew it was wrong, that it was how he used to be; Ben couldn’t bring himself to stop it. He just wanted to enjoy it for a moment longer. Then he’d take his pill. Maybe just until the eyes formed; until he could see that glorious look of recognition, that now it was her who was powerless in front of him. Not vice-versa. She was at his mercy and he could do what he pleased to her…

… And then the red began to seep, running through the fog and as it coalesced into shape - a hint of cornice, the vague outline of a light fitting - Ben’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t been here for so long; not since he’d stood over the last one and watched her breathe deeply in sleep.

The Red Room.

He felt dizzy as it crept down, the red dripping like fresh blood, spreading out to form a roof, rivulets snaking down gradually revealing walls and the figure was becoming clearer now, twisting and thrashing in its centre, its face an overlayed collage; a mesh of all their faces, all of them screaming and screaming and…

Sweat soaked Ben’s face and his cock felt like a length of hot iron along his thigh as the knocking boomed and he snapped back, starting up so he was on his feet before he even realised he was moving.

He searched his mind for it but it was gone again -
had it even reappeared? It shouldn’t be possible. Slavia said it was gone forever. His great success story, that’s what he called him before he’d signed him out. His greatest success story…

The knocking continued, the beats forming a vaguely familiar tattoo and slowly Ben turned to the door. His breathing slowed as he listened, his thumping heart gradually settling back into its normal rhythm. And the knocking just went on and on… Ben didn’t want to answer it. What he really wanted was to sit and think but it was unrelenting and he couldn’t form a coherent train of thought with it pounding away in the background.

His erection still pressed against his thigh as he stalked over and cracked the door, squinting out at the short, old man standing half-turned away from the screen door.

‘Oh hello.’ The man turned to face him and Ben could instantly tell what he wanted by the way his neck craned. He was snooping, ‘I’m Theo, I live up at number twelve. Saw you moving in today, just thought I’d drop in. Say welcome and all that.’

Ben deliberately positioned himself between the gap in the door as the man’s neck craned further, trying to see into the flat behind him. Ben couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even heard of the concept of subtlety.

‘Sooo… welcome to the neighbourhood.’ Theo’s thickly accented voice was beginning to bear signs of irritation and Ben realised that obviously some sort of social interaction was expected.

‘Thank-you,’ he murmured and Theo grinned toothily at him as an uncomfortable silence descended. Ben could clearly see the silver fillings that dotted his teeth. Judging by the man’s fidgeting, he was expecting further conversation or maybe even an invitation to enter but Ben didn’t have the energy to talk to him and there was no way he was letting him set foot inside.

‘Okay then.’ Theo’s head was still bobbing and weaving as he tried to peer past Ben and he had to resist the urge to slam the door in his face. ‘Just trying to be friendly. Be seeing you. Welcome again!’

Ben almost grinned as Theo stalked away, his body language clearly stating to anyone who cared to notice:
I’m in a huff!

Fucking nosey bastard,
Ben thought but didn’t dwell on it. He heard the screen door squeak open next door and suddenly Theo and his nosiness was the last thing on his mind.

He watched her walking to the rubbish bins set out on the edge of the empty car park outside her flat. He drank in every subtle shift of her figure beneath the flannelette pyjamas as she dropped an empty wine bottle into the recycling bin and a small bag into the rubbish.

As she turned and headed back, just briefly, she glanced in his direction and for a fleeting second she was framed by ghostly red walls…

…Then she was gone, back through the screen door as it banged shut, leaving Ben a little breathless as he closed his own door and headed for his pills. His hands were shaking wildly as he emptied two into his palm and gulped them down, his heart thumping heavily in his chest.

There’s nothing to be scared of,
he told himself, but somehow the statement didn’t ring true. Because for a second there. Just briefly. Oh so briefly. She had looked exactly like
her
.

DAY 2

It took only three economical strokes as he savoured the lingering images and then Ben’s jism was spurting hotly across his stomach and up onto his chest. It was only as his post-ejaculatory bliss descended that he even realised what he’d just done. That he’d ever so easily slipped back into his old habits. That this was the way it always started. First he would see them and the air would thicken. Then the image of them bound. Then came the screaming and the Red Room would appear with the glittering, new meathook waiting just for them.

And there in the Red Room he could play for as long as he wanted…

Although he wasn’t consciously aware of having visited it as he slept, Ben could think of no other explanation for his excitement and the thought of it sent him scurrying for his pills despite Mandy’s words flashing through his mind again. Even though the jism was rapidly cooling and scaling it still seemed to burn into him as he tipped two of the pills into his hand. It was supposed to be the start of his new life today. He needed to go find work. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
He got lucky last time. He couldn’t do it again. If he was caught…

Even as he swallowed the pills, Ben couldn’t stop his doubts from surfacing again and the argument played on a loop through his mind; much as it had everyday since he’d overheard them. The shrill whisper of his brother’s girlfriend that still penetrated through their bedroom wall with ease, reaching his ears as he lay sleepless in the spare room. He still remembered it word for word and as he sought out his cigarettes in the puddle of his clothing on the floor, her wheedling voice played through his mind once more.